"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She had not realized how many places had taken root inside of her, not until they were forcefully ripped away and she was left with nothing.
Tephra — where her and Cassian had been born, the place where she had fought her first battle, and where she eventually wore its crown.
Nerine, the cold shores she had disappeared to when she had felt as though she let Tephra down, where Heartfire had let her stay as long as she needed until she felt capable of moving on.
And Hyaline, the land that had finally allowed her the safety to learn her dragon shifting, the place she had fought on behalf of in the Alliance and earned the red ‘V’ that now marks her front leg.
In one fell swoop she had been left with nothing, and for someone that had long suffered with a sense of not belonging this had been more difficult than she had realized. It was not until the prospect of Tephra returning came to fruition that the ashes of her hope even began to stir, but there is a part of her that is still afraid to let it catch fire. Things could change, and Beqanna was known for being fickle; until she was standing in the shadow of the volcano she was not letting herself think that far ahead.
Instead she has come to the meadow.
Even though it was typically one of the busier places — even when the land was experiencing times of quiet — there was always a certain kind of peace to be found in the way that this particular place had always remained steadfast. Through every flooding and other disasters, the meadow remained largely unchanged, and the quiet hum of conversation and the wind rustling the tall grasses put her at ease. Staring out across the expanse of land, this could have been a snapshot from any moment in time. The faces and the conversations may be different, but the idea is always the same.
She stands not far from the heart of it, observing from the swell of a gentle knoll, and in a sea of so many colors and unique personal magics the plain white mare goes largely unnoticed in the fading autumn sunlight.
She had lost her family when she was just a foal. A summer storm gone awry separated her from anyone who ever cared for her. She learned to fend for herself, until she found Stellar. They were inseparable for most of her life - the little bat helped keep her out of harms way, and she protected him from predators and the elements. However, when she reached this new land, she lost her faithful companion too. Lourde was utterly alone, in a place she hardly knew anything about. Perhaps, that is why she found herself vulnerable in ways she had never been before. Perhaps, that is why nightmares found her often nowadays.
She sees the creature every night now - her skeletal appearance; her sharp-toothed grin; the remnants of tissue hanging from her horn; crimson blood dripping between her eyes and onto the snow. Lourde can hear her raspy, strange voice echo through her mind; she listens to her thinly veiled threats. Then, the creature points her horn towards Lourde's chest. It runs towards her, too quick for her to escape from this time.
And then, she wakes.
Lourde is covered in sweat. Her heart beats rapidly within her chest, which at the very least is a sign she is alive. It takes her a moment to catch her breath, and she looks around her. She hadn't been to the forest since the encounter - instead, she stands on the meadow's outskirts, where she is able to see everything for miles. She hears the soft hum of voices scattered throughout the meeting ground. She is safe, for now.
Lourde stretches her legs, deciding now is as good a time as any to make her way to the heart of the field. She hasn't talked to many people here, not since her woodland misadventures. She's angry that the encounter frightened her so much. She had been in countless battles, suffered endless heartache...why was this so hard for her to shake? She lets out an annoyed sigh, weaving through trees, bushes, and groups of grazing horses until she stands at the base of a small knoll. She glances up, taking notice of a snowy mare who stands at its peak, seemingly taking it all in.
@Casimira my writers block is writers blocking currently so sorry for the crappy post
During another sweep of the landscape her gaze settles on the spotted mare, and she watches her silently for a moment. While she has never been unfriendly, she cannot say that she has been especially good at making friends. That had always been more Cassian’s territory; he was by far the more outgoing twin, and with her dragon shifting appearing so suddenly Casimira had only further drawn into herself. It was not until adulthood — more specifically after the Alliance — when she had developed any kind of real confidence in herself.
It was not being able to shift into a dragon that had made her feel powerful. It was learning that she could control herself that had been the stepping stones to her becoming the self-assured, poised queen that she would one day be. Knowing that she had that kind of ability waiting just under her skin, but that she was not captive to it, had been what she needed to grow into herself.
But from where she stands on the knoll, she feels a brief flicker of doubt. Outside of Savior and their children, she had not been around others very often in the recent years. Even as a queen she had been reserved, more of a watchful protector It was only after the excursion to the mountain that she had been reminded of how she did in fact sometimes enjoy the company of others, and so she makes her way through the rippling meadow-grass towards the stranger. There is the smallest of smiles on her face, something to soften her ice-blue eyes enough that she did not appear unfriendly, mindful of the other mare’s reaction to her approaching as she says, “hello.” She stops just a few paces away, shifting her gaze to take in the scenery that surrounds them; the grasses still clinging to the last of their green before winter comes, the golden sunlight limning the trees. “The meadow is lovely during autumn, isn’t it?”
Autumn was a stark reminder of the fickleness of life.
Once towering oaks, awash in jade, began to lay dormant as the seasons changed. Their leaves scattered haphazardly across the meadow to decay into the earth below. Life was caustic, fleeting - here one moment and then gone the next. It was only when faced with the eyes of a monster had Lourde realized her own mortality. She too would be here for a moment before fading into evanescent oblivion.
Maybe that is why when the pallid mare approached her, she did not pin her ears defiantly, or give a sarcastic response. If she, like autumn, was temporary, maybe her memory should mean more to others. Lourde shifts uncomfortably, mumbling a quiet "hello" back to the mare. She never quite meets the mare's azure gaze, her own eyes looking out towards the meadow's scenery. It is cool that day, the winter cold front fast approaching them. The last remnants of life cling to the trees in a cascade of crimson and ocher, and rays of aurulent sunlight pour through their aching limbs. Lourde realizes silently that she had never quite thought about how beautiful autumn was before the stranger mentioned it.
"Yes," Lourde murmurs breathlessly. "It is beautiful." She looks back towards the mare awkwardly, still avoiding her eyes directly.
@Casimira just an angsty girl realizing life can be...beautiful?!
